The Wistful Cipher
You wake in a room that does not exist, the air thick with the scent of wet wool and ancient, crushed lavender, a fragrance so heavy it feels less like an odor and more like a physical weight pressing against your lungs. The light here is not sunlight, but a pale, milky luminescence that seeps through walls of translucent stone, casting no shadows, only a soft, pervasive glow that makes your...
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